“What?” she asked.
“Was it Misha?” he replied quietly.
“What do you mean?” It was a stupid response, and she knew it, but the shock of chatting casually with the killer was still fresh.
“Even in the black snow, I saw you talking to someone in the back of Tessa’s truck. She and the old man got out and left you with whomever it was. The fact you haven’t said anything about it makes me think I’m right.”
She sighed, knowing she had to fess up. “Yeah, it was him. I really wanted that jerk to be dead. Too bad we don’t always get what we want. He’s alive and kicking over there. To add to the fun, he took the police gun from my belt. Now he’s got at least two pistols and my bear spray.”
“Did he threaten Tessa? Is that how he got them out?”
Grace glanced back over to Tessa’s truck; a zap of lightning lit it up for a moment. She and Chester were back inside, and Misha remained in the back. The two rangers had no idea what she’d talked about with the hitman, nor did they know he was a threat of the highest order. Since she was cooperative and gave over her phone, she prayed he’d have no reason to hurt anyone.
“I made them leave,” she deadpanned, “so there wouldn’t be any bloodshed.”
“I see. So, what do we do now? I still have my shooter.” He slapped the gun on his hip.
“Yeah, whatever you do, don’t go over there, or he’ll figure out a way to snatch yours, too. Luckily, I still have the one I took from him; it’s stuffed behind my back. We’ll use firepower if we have to, but he’s badly injured and almost seemed reasonable when I talked to him. It was as if he’s thinking about letting us go.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you? He’s probably waiting for you to get him off the mountain with everyone else. Then…” Asher clapped once. “Bang!”
She continued to stare into the bleak darkness of the snowstorm. Tessa’s truck wasn’t more than fifty feet away, but its two headlights were barely visible. “For now, yes. I’m sure I’ll feel different when we’re down and safe. All we—”
Someone knocked on the driver’s door, scaring her out of her seat.
“Sorry!” a man shouted. He was wrapped in a heavy winter coat, making it hard to see his face. As he stepped back, she figured out he was the older man she’d talked to in Gardner Canyon. “I saw you sitting here in your wrecked truck and thought you could use some warm clothes. My wife wants you to have hers until we get down below.” He held up a light-blue coat.
“And you can have my son’s,” he added, holding out a second coat so Asher could see it.
She wanted to say no, but there was nothing in the professional guidebook for park rangers which forbade accepting acts of kindness. The reality couldn’t be ignored or toughed out; her body was numb from the freezing wind and cold. “Only until we get down,” she reassured him, still holding on to a sliver of professional restraint.
“Take them,” the man insisted. “They’re yours for helping us survive this.”
“Thank you, truly,” she said, teeth chattering. “As you can tell from our condition in here, we both desperately need them.”
A minute later, finally dressed for the weather, her entire outlook changed. Where before she saw the convoy highlighted by an assassin and darkness, it was now peopled with decent folks and charity. The man showed up out of nowhere to provide a helping hand. It was her turn to do the same.
But only after reveling in the gift she’d been handed. Grace snuggled against the fake fur lining the hood. “I could fall asleep in this thing, it’s so warm and comfortable.”
“Me too,” Asher agreed. Despite the nice coat, he continued to warm his hands on the heater vents.
She watched the wipers work the slush from side to side, knowing visibility was only going to get worse if they didn’t push on. “We’re out of here.”
Grace put the truck in gear and drove back to the road. Other cars in the parking lot started moving to keep up with her. After a brief wave to Tessa, who remained parked in the sweeper position at the end of the line, she turned right.
Ahead, a chalkboard-black wall of snow greeted her once on the move. The terrain went slightly downhill and, from what she remembered, the pass was a flat, open field of rocks. It also had steep drop-offs a hundred yards on each side of the roadway. That was why she drove about two miles per hour for the first couple of minutes.
“This is weird,” she said, desperately trying to see beyond the windshield. “The road splits in two. I don’t remember this.” She tapped the brakes, but the truck continued on its gliding path toward the left fork.
“Wait a second!” she cried, mashing the brakes to the floor, finding the same result.
Asher held on to the dashboard as the truck continued sliding in slow motion.
“I’ve got to get out of these ruts.” She was already in four-wheel drive, so Grace turned the wheel and gave it gas, rather than braking. Her heart raced as fast as the RPMs of the engine; somewhere down the slippery slope there was a thousand-foot cliff.
Grace gripped the wheel and contained her panic as she tried to drive out of the snowy path created by previous drivers. Each second was a lifetime as she goosed the engine and brakes in sequence. It seemed hopeless as the down-sliding continued, then the truck suddenly turned sideways and hopped free. Once outside the lines, she managed to use the brakes and stop the truck.
“I can’t believe that just happened.” She kept her foot on the pedal, as if releasing it would send them over the edge.
Asher looked ahead, then glanced back. “Oh, crap. We’re not the only ones in trouble.”
Grace turned to see the headlights of several other vehicles sliding in the darkness. It was as if someone had made sure the road emptied onto a snow-covered ice-skating rink, then tilted it only enough to keep the cars in motion. Some spun out left and right, safely outside of the tire ruts, but one glided right past the back end of her Suburban.
“Holy cow!” she blurted, hopping out of the truck.
The four-door car slid at almost a comical speed, no faster than a brisk walk. Grace was tempted to run after it, but there was nothing she could have done to stop the heavy object. The driver let off the brakes, then the vehicle continued deeper into the darkness for about ten seconds before tilting forward and vanishing.
She looked up the hill, afraid more were going to slide the same way. Members of the convoy littered the gentle hillside, and most vehicles were safely stopped. Two or three continued directly down the ruts in the middle, as if the drivers had stumbled into the slipperiest part.
“God help us,” she pleaded.
Land Between the Lakes, KY
There were four dirt bikes, but also four women who wanted to cross the bridge on the southern part of the lake. Ezra and Butch were given their own bikes, the two extra ladies choosing to ride behind their friends. It left two seats open, which he offered to anyone left in camp, but no one took him up on it. It made more sense when they slapped five-gallon fuel cans on the seats; they’d need them to cover the full distance to Murray. While he was shuffling his backpack and rifle over his shoulders, one of the men came up on the sly. “Don’t let anything happen to my wife, ya hear?”
Ezra stuck out his hand. “I’m Ezra. This is Butch. We’ll do everything in our power to keep all the women safe and get them home. I promise you.”
“I’m Scott. I don’t like armed strangers who come out of nowhere, but Colby and the ladies trust you, so I guess I’ll have to as well.” He stepped closer, though he didn’t shake with Ezra. “But you should know, I’ll never stop hunting you down if you hurt them with those rifles, instead of defending them like you promised.”
Butch held up his hands. “Whoa, dude, we aren’t going to hurt anyone. We have an easy ride to Murray. Colby said we could buy used motorcycles when we get there. We would be idiots to mess up such a good thing.”
Scott looked taken aback. “The world is full of idiots. I’m just mak
ing sure you ain’t two of them.”
“We aren’t,” Ezra assured him, still with his hand out.
Scott looked him up and down, then relented. After a brief handshake, the man went over to his lady friend sitting at the handlebars of another dirt bike.
“I guess I don’t blame them for being skeptical,” Butch said quietly.
“We’re doing them a favor. We can’t let them down.”
The procession started out of camp with all the Jeepers gathered to watch. Colby’s wife, Mary, sat in front of a second woman he didn’t know. Scott’s companion was a gal named Jean; she had a smaller lady on the back of her bike. Mary started out of camp first, with Jean close behind. Butch’s giant frame made the motorcycle look small, and his tires dug into the mud under the extra weight load. Ezra dropped back far enough to avoid all the mud coming off his rear tire.
They weaved in and out of downed trees for a couple of minutes until the path emerged alongside the engorged lake. Normally, the North-South trail was inland from Kentucky Lake, but the water was unnaturally high; it almost reached the muddy route.
Mary guided them through the fallen trees until they came to a clearing by the lake. He thought it was odd to stop so soon after leaving camp, but she seemed interested in what was out there. “Hold up!” she shouted, turning off her bike.
When he pulled up next to her, he shut off his rig and popped open his visor. A gentle rain speckled the water surface nearby, lending a sadness to the mass of wrecked barges close by.
“This part of the lake is called Turkey Bay. Two days ago, we drove our Jeeps right out onto the mud flats down there. Now, the flats are under twenty feet of water, I’d guess, and those barges came crashing in when the water rose up.”
The rusty cargo haulers had probably come into the bay lashed together as one big fleet three barges wide and five or six barges long. The configuration was quite common on the lake; over the years he’d learned three abreast was how many would fit through the locks at the dam. However, the grouping in front of him had broken apart and the mass of barges untethered from each other. Many floated among the stripped trees on the northern side of the bay. The white towboat had capsized toward the middle. One side was underwater, the other half stuck out above the surface.
“We saw one of these loose barges near the bridge when we came across,” he remarked.
“Yeah, we got a look at it, too,” Mary replied. “The real reason I stopped here is because we’re away from the men.” She pulled a small pistol out of a mud-caked pocket. “We’re putting our lives in your hands, but don’t try anything, all right? You’ll find us capable of defending ourselves.”
Ezra imagined he was living the same dream over and over. No one seemed to trust him. “I promise you, we have no ill intentions towards you four ladies. We’re all going the same way, as I told your friend Scott. We’re here to help.”
Butch chuckled. “Do we have a look about us? Is that why you don’t trust us?”
Mary stashed the gun back in her pocket before laughing a bit, too. “No, you’re both fine. If the guys thought you were any threat to go back on your word, I’m sure they would have disarmed you back at camp and sent you packing. As I said, I only stopped to make it clear no matter what the men thought of you, we ladies take care of ourselves. Now that we’ve got the unpleasantries out of the way, let’s have a good ride. We’ve got twenty miles of these godforsaken fallen trees until the southern bridge, and this rain isn’t going to be fun, either.”
A crack of distant thunder put emphasis to her statement. The weather had been unusual since he’d left the subdivision. The darkest clouds were still to the east, though the ones above them weren’t much better. It was dreary for a summer day in Kentucky.
As they headed off into the woods, Ezra didn’t hold their mistrust against the Jeepers or the women on bikes. It had already been two nights since Paducah was wiped out. They’d been living in the woods, unsure of what was happening on the outside. Naturally, they’d be leery of anyone coming into their world, and the bad weather didn’t help.
We’ll have to prove we’re good people.
Not long after passing the bay filled with wrecks, they watched as additional barges floated free out in the middle of the lake. Dozens of them went by, including a few still lashed to their towboats. It was as if a dock had come loose, pushing all the rust-colored cargo containers into the main shipping channel. The women didn’t stop to observe them, so he didn’t, either.
It was a tough slog the farther south they went. It became apparent another meteorite had impacted close by, somewhere to the southeast. The trees were all facing toward the west, rather than the east, as they were by his house. By the time they made it to the southern bridge across the lake, he figured it had been at least ninety minutes.
Mary stopped her bike at the top of an escarpment overlooking the bridge. Ezra knew in a heartbeat the whole journey had been for nothing.
The bridge was gone.
Chapter 14
Beartooth Pass, WY
Grace didn’t think about the danger. She hustled through the snow to get back to the driver’s door, pulled herself back in, then slammed the gear shift into reverse. “Hang on!” she shouted.
“You can’t be—” Asher began to say.
The truck reversed course for a few feet, enough to block the path of the arriving vehicles. The first one slid into the rear quarter panel, partly turning the truck like it was a swinging door. She crushed the brake pedal with both feet, praying it was enough to stop the momentum of the sliding car.
Please don’t suck us down with it.
The second car in the line crunched into the back bumper of the first, which in turn moved her a bit farther to the side, though there wasn’t enough momentum to shove her out of the way. She came to a stop at a diagonal, blocking the path and mostly facing up the hillside. When a third car came down and hit the second vehicle in the line, she didn’t even feel it. Grace only exhaled when it was clear everyone had stopped.
“Now what?” Asher asked in a tentative voice, as if loud noise might dislodge all the cars on the hillside.
Grace picked up the CB radio. “Tessa. Um, you out there?”
“Yeah, Grace. My God, I’m glad to hear your voice. From back here, I saw the whole convoy go down the wrong path; did you know there’s a cliff that way?”
Her blood pressure was already pegged at its limit, so it took her a minute to appreciate it was a joke. She let go of some of her stress as the quirky humor of the older woman sank in. “Yeah, we noticed it, Tessa.”
Asher laughed, too.
Grace continued speaking. “Got any ideas on how to get us out of this mess? Chester has probably been in the snow a time or two; does he have any ideas?”
The line was silent for twenty or thirty seconds. She figured they were thinking up a brilliant strategy, but she was surprised when Misha’s Russian accent came out of the speaker. “Dohbree deeyen, comrade,” he drawled. “It means good afternoon. I have idea which may relieve you of this disaster.”
All of her tension was back. “What do you want?” she said in a disbelieving tone of voice.
“I want to help,” he replied. “After all, I do owe you one.”
“I’m listening,” she said, not sure she was in a position to refuse help from anyone.
“In Bryansk, winters look a lot like this, minus black snow, yes? When we get stuck in storm, we cut ropes and wrap through wheels and tires. Gives good grip. It surprises me you do not know of this.”
“We have chains,” she said glumly, “but we don’t carry them in the middle of summer.”
Misha laughed. “Is not summer now.”
Grace hated admitting the hitman was helping, but his solution was exactly what she needed. She’d come to the park after wintertime, so she hadn’t been trained on the use of chains. However, anyone who knew how to tie a knot could help with Misha’s rope solution. That was the type of training scenar
io she liked.
While sitting there with the CB, a pair of shapes walked out of the darkness next to the truck. They came from lower on the hill, leading her to wonder if someone went to look at the car which had gone over the cliff. It was not an act she’d ever recommend, since the slick terrain could send walkers over the edge, too. Still, something about them got her attention. “Hey, you guys okay?”
A man in a heavy coat waved at her. “We jumped out at the last second. We lost everything in our car, though.”
Asher whistled in awe.
“You almost died,” she said in a blown-away tone of voice.
The man was in surprisingly good spirits. “My wife said jump, so we jumped.”
Lightning flared nearby, touching off a rolling clap of thunder. “I’d take you in my truck to get you out of here, but I don’t have windows. Or a door. Or the ability to get up to pavement, yet. You probably don’t want to be exposed to this lightning and thunder, either. Can you get inside one of the other cars, preferably one still on the road? We’re going to get ourselves out of here so no one else goes over the side.”
The man gave her an okay sign, then walked hand in hand with his female companion. She felt better knowing the couple survived, as it meant she didn’t have blood on her hands from being careless. Grace keyed the microphone again. “We’ll run around and ask for rope from the people out there. That’s going to get us out of here, for sure. Thanks, uh…” She didn’t want to say his name. “Sir.”
“Nichevo; it was nothing.” Misha sounded satisfied with himself.
Grace could hardly believe it was high noon. The smothering clouds churned out the heavy, black thundersnow at a record pace. Another inch had piled up on her hood by the time she’d shared her plan with everyone. The second inch was dropping by the time they’d found the needed ropes.
Impact (Book 2): Bounce Page 11